Overview

Wiltshire examines the notion of adaptation and other work as fitting under the general umbrella of “recreation”. He is interested in looking at Jane Austen explicitly, but is also interested in generalizing to develop a general theory of adaptation.

Notes

Introduction

Wiltshire mentions early the referencing of Pride and Prejudice in Bridget Jones’s Diary. The connection can be considered both referential as well as adaptive. The comparison is more of a transcoding, finding different ways to meet similar ends. One interesting point of challenge raised by this is that an adaptation may attempt to transcode different components of the source story. In Bridget Jones, the plot is structurally the same as in Pride and Prejudice, but the characters and social context are different. Other extensions (eg, Mr. Darcy’s Daughters) extend and continue the characters, but are necessarily different in plot.

There are a number of processes described here– remaking, rewriting, adaptation, reworking, appropriation: all of these are loose terms on the same category. This is the general process of “recreation” that Wiltshire is trying to derive.

There is some discussion on the cultural capital and artistic value and worth of artifacts. Adaptation may be seen as trying to “take” value, or alternately, attempt to “extend” value. Contemporary works live in the shadow of capitalism and cannot be created without at least some awareness of “marketability” (referenced from W.J.T. Mitchell). Wiltshire critiques the idea of “auteur theory” and poses the remarkable idea that adaptors (specifically scriptwriters and filmmakers) should be considered readers, because they are making interpretive choices. If we push that argument a little bit more, we can go so far as to say that any author is partly a reader of systems of their own design. Referenced here is a line from Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’s Diary, in which Natasha is complaining of the “arrogance with which a new generation imagines that it can somehow create the world afresh.” Mark Darcy’s reply is “But that’s exactly what they do, do.” This connects to Jenkins again. “One might add that indeed each generation produces its own works of art, but not entirely out of its own materials.” (p. 5) Wiltshire connects to Donald Winnicott, who is referenced persistently later.

Some notes on Jane Austen’s image in culture: conservative, stuffy, anti-contemporary. In context, she is progressive, transgressive, challenging, etcetera.

Imagining Jane Austen’s Life

On the psychology of the biographical impulse: Comes the duality of intimacy and remoteness, construction and terrifying unknowability. Part of this is to construct Austen’s life in the romantic terms of her novels, which is a drive to make her inner life much more familiar and knowable in the terms that we have to remember her by. It also underlies the competing forces of nostalgia and progressiveness in reconstruction. These forces are opposed, nostalgia is a desire to idealize and evoke familiarity, and consequently reflects the stuffiness that tends to appear in portrayals of Austen. Austen’s progressiveness is unusual because it separates her both from this idealization and casts the shadow of separation between herself and her works.

Jane Austen in Manhattan, Metropolitan, Clueless

On some of the dogma of fidelity: Extends to differentiation of subject and object in the sense of developmental psychology (Winnicott reference). To see an “unfaithful” adaptation is to see an objectified text, which has some degree of reverence and authority. Unfaithfulness implies that the text is being changed or taken advantage of by the filmmaker, abducting it from its state of purity and compromising it. The issue of faithfulness denies the subjectivity of the text itself, not just in terms of it being interpreted subjectively, but rather its capacity to cause meaning independently. The broader scope of adaptation sees more of “borrowing” or “influence” or “persuasion” by the original material, rather than something that sounds like wedlock.

In the adaptation of Emma in Clueless: The influence is not that of a mother text, but rather an inner presence. Instead of being idealized, the text of Emma is loved, destroyed, and remade (or reborn). Clueless not only adapts, but also parodies and recontextualizes. Not bound so intimately to the original, it is free to stand as an independent work. Other adaptations have an undercurrent of anxiety, a certain nervousness in their relationship to the original. Blind faithfulness requires a reverence for the past and an unwillingness to embrace newness. With Clueless, the process of adaptation is not carrying cultural capital, but instead the essence of art. (p. 56-57)

From drama, to novel, to film

Looking at how Austen borrows conventions from drama: emotions are reflected on the surface of the characters. Austen is notable for the inner life of her characters. However, the conventional way of exposing this is to represent it externally, through soliloquy or indirect speech. Working around the lack of this is deeply problematic in adaptations: many forms of media are not able to carry the same degree of inner life, especially not with the notion of indirect speech. Adaptations may fall to stage conventions: making expression direct (for example, repetition, melodrama), and this lacks the novel’s subtlety. Notably, simulation sounds very promising in this respect. If emotional state should be expressed, there might be multiple ways of doing so. Especially Sims-like games might represent thoughts visually with bubbles, following comic conventions.

Wiltshire gives an example of a filmic adaptation of Persuasion, which uses imagery and dramatic cuts to establish a complex depth through referential and metaphorical analogy. Instead of using verbal language or melodrama to convey meaning, it resorts to filmic and visual language. This is still a form of communication, and in context it carries both the same meaning, and the same tone, in that both are suitably subtle.

Pride and Prejudice, Love and Recognition

Wiltshire gives a nice overview of the philosophy and ideology of Pride and Prejudice specifically. The “great subjects” of the book are “class, love, money and marriage”, while it is “principally about sex, and it’s about money: those are the driving motives of the plot.” (as described by Lilian Robinson, who produced the BBC television adaptation) However, beyond this is a deeper, epistemological issue, which relates is visible in the book’s title. The issue is judging and re-judging, recognition and re-cognition, “that act by which the mind can look again at a thing and if necessary make revision and amendments until it sees the thing as it really is” (as described by Tony Tanner). The deeper issue here is one of knowing another. Interestingly, the idea of impressions and knowing relate back to Goffman, who describes this interaction in slightly more mechanical terms.

Another issue at stake is the idea of “projection” as developed by David Hume. On the extremes are characters such as Mr. Collins, Lydia, and Mrs. Bennett, who project their ideals and desires onto anyone, versus Darcy, to whom no one is worthy of the projection of his ideals. The issue here is that with projection, the subject of the projection does not matter. For Mr. Collins, the identity and substance of the girl he wishes to marry do not matter, as long as she suits his plans. The girl has no existence for him, she is merely a frame around whom he may construct his desires.

Described here is what it means for characters to be identifiable as individuals, rather than caricatures. Many games have this problem, due to their existence as rule-based systems, agents (including the player) necessarily take on the roles of caricatures. This problem descends from a failure to find an inner life and psychology, as opposed to partial repetitions, gestures, tropes, etc. This idea relates again back to Goffman in terms of establishing identity and selfhood. “Such people (politicians, celebrities, for example, but also acquaintances) occupy a space in the inner theatre that is like that of a caricature, for in the economy of our psychological lives we cannot spare the energy to lend them an inner being. Instead they serve as objects: objects onto which we may project, or into which we may invest, atavistic propensities of our own. We may think of them as wholly bad, or as buffoons, or admire them as heroes and heroines. We make do, in other words, with partial and stereotyped notions of others.” (p. 103) This idea is especially strong in Pride and Prejudice, as the protagonists are faced with the realization of their false projections of their own impressions onto each other. It is this objectification (described in terms of Winnicott’s psychoanalysis, but also may echo that of Herbert Mead) that enables individuals to interact with their environments, by treating objects as partial reflections of one’s own ideas (and self).

Pulling in more philosophy, Wiltshire references Hegel. The phenomenon of projection may be seen as extending Hegel’s master-slave relationship. In interacting with others, our relationships are dominations, where we make psychological use/abuse of the other. The example described here is Darcy’s first proposal scene, where, in the “bonds of love”, he is oblivious to the person whom he is addressing. The idea of this use and objectification hearkens to the postmodern vision of others as unknowable and totally alien. However, Pride and Prejudice does seem to conclude with the notion that understanding and acceptance are ultimately possible.

Discussing the early scene in the book (where Elizabeth and Caroline walk around the room), Darcy admits to his flaw of a resentful temper. A more careful analysis is taking place here, but ultimately the exchange is difficult to wholly understand. As readers, we are given facial expressions, but do not see Darcy’s inner character in his responses in this scene, leading us to make our own interpretations. While the effects of language are procedural, they are also deep and subtle, however, we are faced with the same dilemmas as when faced with any black-box system. The reader is alone in comprehending Darcy, and as such, to us, Darcy is an interpretation and construction, much as he is to Elizabeth.

On the gradual development and recognition of emotion: Austen represents “falling in love” as an explicit sequence of thoughts and emotions, which, while slow and subtle, denotes a clear development of emotion. The process is vague and obscure, but at the same time conscious and rational. If we were to use this as grounds for representing love as a concept in a game or simulation, this sort of pacing and peculiar clarity may be very useful.

The love that does develop takes the form of a shared reality, rather than a jumble of projections. At some point, the matter of projection breaks down and in its place is a simultaneous reconstruction of something new and different. The change also takes place in the character of the protagonists as well, in addition to merely their perception of each other.

A final change and difference between the BBC adaptation and the novel is a more modern issue of responsibility. Where in the novel, a revealing point occurs when Elizabeth visits Pemberly and sees the portrait of Darcy, with the smile that she failed to recognize before, the revelation is in the discovery of knowledge that was previously missed. In the television series, however, the same portrait is somber, but intercut with the scene is Darcy riding towards Pemberly and taking a spontaneous swim in a lake, seemingly seeking escape from the pressures of responsibility, as well as a release of pent up emotion. These scenes are very divergent, and represent a shift in perspective, as well as probably a modern viewpoint (the trope of escape from responsibility). The change also reflects Darcy in a more central role as an agent in the story (as opposed to the emphasis being on Elizabeth’s recognition). But at the same time, attempts to convey the same recognition to the viewer, who can identify with and empathize with the desire for freedom.